


Words

by guineapiggie



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, F/M, Prompt Fic, Rebelcaptain Secret Santa, it ends on a happier note i feel like this being me i should clarify, not for lack of trying on cassian's part because old habits die hard, other than that: angst! rambling!, so much rambling, that is literally the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 07:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22032169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineapiggie/pseuds/guineapiggie
Summary: First the mission report – those words he knows, and by almost any metric, it’s the more urgent matter.The one little voice that tells him it isn’t… is all too easily silenced. He has a long habit of that, too. Fulcrum doesn’t want things for himself, and anything Cassian wants he can give up for Fulcrum, if it’s not something he needs to survive.That’s what he was trying to explain. How hard it is, after all this time, to want things. Want people. Want love. Want life, even.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso
Comments: 17
Kudos: 95
Collections: The RebelCaptain Network Secret Santa Exchange





	Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dopt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dopt/gifts).



“Could have been worse,” Jyn says tersely, ducking into a doorway.

He glowers at her. “ _How?_ ”

The obvious answer, of course, is this: they could be dead. But that is part of the issue. This should not be the obvious answer. The _obvious_ worst-case scenario should be not getting the intel, and they don’t have it. So, for _Cassian,_ yes, it could have been worse, but for Fulcrum, for the mission, for the cause –

He curses under his breath.

“I told you you shouldn’t –“

“Don’t you dare, Andor,” she hisses, casting a glance over her shoulder. “Don’t you _dare_ tell me I told you so. This was not my fault.”

“I never said it was,” he gives back irritably, listening to the footfalls of the troopers in the main street that shows no sign of fading. How many of them could there possibly be? “It’s not your fault. All I’m saying is I should’ve done this mission alone –“

“So you expect me to let you just walk into your death,” she cuts him off in a harsh, quiet voice and cold eyes. “After everything we’ve been through.”

“I’m not – Jyn, let’s just get out of here first –”

“No, let’s do this now, Cassian,” she says flatly, casting another glance down the street. “While we’re stuck here. You’re pissed because I insisted on coming with you and stopping you from turning this into a full-blown suicide mission. Do you _want_ to die?”

“No. I actually don’t, Jyn,” he bites back quietly. “I don’t. And that’s the problem –“

“That’s the _problem?_ Do you hear yourself?”

He shuts his eyes and leans his head against the wall. Shooting his way out of this is starting to sound like a good option.

“The only thing worse than a soldier who’s terrified of death is one who wants to die. Right?”

“You sound like Saw,” she says bitterly.

“All I’m saying is I used to get out of tight spots a lot better because I… I didn’t _want_ to die, but I didn’t have a walking reminder of why I really, really don’t want to die, and I could have gotten us both killed.”

The trooper’s steps have faded and the street is clear. Jyn doesn’t move, but her jaw is clenched and there are still splinters of ice in her eyes.

“Right. Well, I’m sorry,” she says after a moment, in a flat voice. “Alright, Cassian, I am so sorry that this had to happen to you. I’m sure it’s all very inconvenient for you. I didn’t mean to come along and jeopardise your, your… your karking _spy career.”_

“Jyn –“

“And I’m sure you could have at least found someone who’s better at all of this. Somebody _easier._ So sorry you couldn’t fall for anyone who’d care less about losing people.” With that, she turns on her heels and stalks towards the spaceport without another word.

Yeah, no, he deserves that. Force, what did he just say? Why would he say that?

He grimaces, holsters his blaster and hurries after her.

.

In the shuttle back, they don’t talk. She sits with her back to the hull, eyes closed and motionless. There is a scratch on her cheek that he’d give a lot to reach out and rub some bacta on, but he has a very clear notion of how well that would be received right now. Or, maybe, ever, unless he finds words. Words to say that he’s sorry – no, not really. He was _right._ He could have got them killed, because he’d risk his life, other people, the mission, before he’d see her get hurt. He can’t even say what he would do, if it was her or winning the war. And that is terrifying, and to have that realisation thrown in his face in the middle of a mission is dangerous and stupid, and he begged her not to do it.

But now he has to explain something else to her, find words for a _feeling,_ and…

Well, he has a long history of holding his breath, and a very short one of knowing to say things how he means to say them, so Force knows how well this will go for him.

He sighs and takes his seat in the pilot’s chair. First the mission report – those words he knows, and by almost any metric, it’s the more urgent matter.

The one little voice that tells him it isn’t… is all too easily silenced. He has a long habit of that, too. Fulcrum doesn’t want things for himself, and anything _Cassian_ wants he can give up for Fulcrum, if it’s not something he needs to survive.

That’s what he was trying to explain. How hard it is, after all this time, to _want_ things. Want people. Want love. Want life, even.

He scoffs and runs a hand over his tired eyes. There’s no way in hell he’ll find the words to explain _that._

The report first, then. Yes. He’ll explain _that_ mess to Draven, somehow, and then… then, Force willing, he’ll somehow explain the mess in his head to her.

* * *

There are steps in the hallway, then he’s standing in front of her bunk, casting a distracted glance around the room to check if they’re alone, then says, before she can so much as open her mouth:

“It didn’t _happen._ ”

Right. Whatever that means. “What?”

“It didn’t just… happen. It didn’t… It –“ He sighs, shakes his head and starts over. “Look, alright, it… it happened. I wasn’t looking for… well… anything. Ever. But –“ He pauses, probably realising he’s pacing, and makes himself stand still. She recognises the habit, from debriefs. “It did happen, I admit that, but…”

He is searching her gaze and she lets him have his wish – making sure not to look too forgiving, though. She’s very much failing to see how him bursting into her quarters in the middle of the night and rambling wildly should make up for what he said on the mission.

When he goes on, his voice is very quiet, and his face oddly still. “I could have killed it. I’ve… done that before. All the time. I’m used to it, I – it’s how you go on, when you’re… not having anything to distract or… or to lose, it makes it easier. It’s what…” Cassian shakes his head and closes his eyes for a moment, takes a deep breath.

She bites her lip. Damn it, there he goes. Saying things that make so much sense to her, even when they shouldn’t make sense to anyone, in a better world. Yes, they could have killed it. It would have been hard, and painful, but it wouldn’t have been the first time, and they could have done it. He could have thanked her for her help, her service, and gone back to his old ways, like they wanted him to. She could have left.

“Anyway. I could have killed it. I could have. I _chose_ not to. That didn’t just happen. I let it happen.” His eyes are warm now, burning and open as they rarely are, and his voice has an urgency to it, desperation maybe, or –

Passion, is the word. She remembers the tone, from moments she both wants to remember forever and never think of again – _a cause that was worth it. Some of us live it. Rebellions are built on hope._

“It was a choice. My choice. And it’s not… a burden, ever. And if it ever was, then it’s still the choice I made. I’m sorry if it sounded like – it’s not _inconvenient_.”

He’s right. She’s right, too – the mission went to shit because it was always going to, unless you sent an agent fully intending to die – but he’s right, too. What she said wasn’t fair. He’s not treating her like she did something to him he didn’t ask for, it’s just… it’s just that all of this is so different from the lives they led, and sometimes it’s hard to adjust.

“Yeah, fine. I do see… I know.”

He pauses for a moment, a surprised look flickering over his tired face. “Right.”

“You’re still an idiot, for the record,” she says darkly. “And you don’t get to blame it on me if you don’t want to die for a string of code. If it was a choice, then that’s part of it. You chose that, too.”

“I know, I –“ He grimaces. “I’m tired, I didn’t… it’s not an inconvenience –“

“Yeah, you said that,” she cuts him off, rolling her eyes, and shuffles aside on the mattress. “About five times, at this point. Sit down before you keel over?”

He hesitates for a moment, then shucks off his boots and drops heavily onto the bunk beside her. He keeps his distance, eyes still on her face, but when he goes on, his voice is a little calmer, a little gentler, and there is a faint smile playing around his lips.

“I say it was a choice, but… well, I won’t pretend I had any idea what I was getting myself into. I had – _have_ no idea what it’s like. But I wanted it. I chose it. And I… I hope you did, too.”

She frowns at him, crossing her arms. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Cassian sighs again, shakes his head. “I just mean… I’ve had to make – I _made_ so many choices that if I ever look back on them, I… I know why I made them, and I’d do it again, probably, but… I haven’t made a lot of choices I’m proud of.” He reaches out a tentative hand to link his fingers with hers and adds softly. “It’s a good feeling. I… I want that for you.”

She returns his smile, despite herself. “Yeah, it is nice, right?”

“Yes,” he mutters, shaking his head. “ _Nice_ is definitely the word.” His eyes drop to their entwined fingers, then they droop shut completely. “Can we just agree you probably shouldn’t ever listen to me when I’m tired?”

“So I’ll just ignore you for the rest of our days?”

He scoffs. “Okay. That’s fair. I just –“

“Cassian,” she mutters, shaking her head and limply pushing at his shoulder. “Stop making speeches. Sleep.”

“We should talk about –“

“We can keep discussing how we both say things we don’t mean, yeah,” she grumbles, stretching out on the narrow bunk as well she can. “Tomorrow. If we have to.”

She suspects he wants to argue, but probably just fell asleep before he could.


End file.
